Seeing Red
by SilverEclipse119
Summary: Long before the events of dhmis, Red Guy's life is anything but uneventful. All to often he finds himself dealing with dangerous criminals, old friends in need of help, and broken families. However, through all his strife, perhaps he will bring together a family of his own. (dhmis) (AU)
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

" _Just keep your head down, and you won't get in trouble!_ "

These were the words running through Red Child's head as he clung to the slippery rocks. The rushing water splashed up at his feet, biting with cold teeth at his stinging ankles. He cried out desperately for help.

Bitter tears ran from his eyes as he thought about Tommy, his best friend. " _Let's go down to the river to play!_ " Tommy had said. " _We can catch frogs and stuff!_ "

" _But were not allowed down by the river._ " Red Child had said. " _Mommy says it's dangerous. Besides, we can catch frogs at the pond._ "

" _Psh, I've been there a hundred times! It's not dangerous! And the frogs are much bigger than the ones at the pond!_ "

" _But how will we get down there without the adults seeing us?_ "

" _It's easy! Just keep your head down, and you won't get in trouble!_ "

He had been right. The high bushes that surrounded the river had made an excellent cover for the small group of children. They had snuck silently down to the riverbank, and the rushing of the river prevented any of the adults from hearing them play.

Everything had been going fine, and they had even caught a few frogs, when Red Child had accidentally stepped a little too close to the river. The very edge of the bank had been weak from erosion, and the dirt had crumbled under his feet. He had cried out for help, and the children had run away, but none of them had come back with any help yet.

The river licked greedily at Red Child's numb feet, and he could feel his hands slipping from the rock. He cried out and squeezed his eyes shut as he began to fall backwards into the river.

Suddenly a hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist. Red Child could feel himself being pulled back up, and he tumbled onto his back on the riverbank.

Red Child lay panting in the grass. Gradually his breathing slowed, and he was able to feel his hands and feet again.

"Count your lucky stars for my good hearing, child!" A gruff voice huffed. "You were nearly fish food."

Red Child jumped at the voice, and slowly turned to face his rescuer. It was an old man who lived in the village. A few days ago, Red Child had stolen his socks on a dare by Tommy. Red Child had known he had been caught in the act, but he had tried to believe that he had gotten away with it. He looked at the old man's feet; he was wearing shoes, but no socks.

"Aye, you recognize me, don't cha?" the old man laughed. "I've been wondering if you'll ever return those socks to me."

Red Child sighed. "I knew you had seen me." He hung his head. "Sorry."

"All is forgiven, provided I get those socks back."

Red Child smiled, then frowned. "Thank you sir," he said. "But why did you help me? After all, I stole your socks."

"A long time ago," replied the old man. "I stole an old lady's hat. The very next day I tripped on the street and that old lady saved me from being trampled by a horse. I asked her the very same question. And you know what she said?"

The Red Child shook his head.

"She said, 'you needed help, so I helped you.' My answer to you is the same, you needed help, so I helped you. Though, I do hope you learned something." He looked at Red Child. "You seem like a nice kid. Don't let others make you do something you know is wrong. Right injustices in the world when you see them."

Red Child stared up at the clouds. "Okay."

The next day he returned the old man's socks.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This story is technically a prequel to another story of mine: _A Wrinkle in Tony_. However, reading that story is not necessary to understand what's happening in this one.


	2. Chapter 1

**Caught Red Handed**

" _Just keep your heads down, and there won't be any trouble!_ "

These frighteningly familiar words ran through Red Guy's head as he crouched under the counter. The check that he had been intending to deposit laid on the floor a few feet away. In his arms, a small pink child was crying softly, trying not to sob and attract the attention of the armed robber.

Her mother cowered against the front door of the bank. Her child had run ahead to play and say hi to the other customers in line, when the door had flown open with a loud _crash_. Red Guy had grabbed her and slid under the counter as the unwelcome robber had made his demands.

"Put it all in the bag!" If Red Guy hadn't recognised the voice before, he did now. The voice belonged to someone he had once called his friend, before he had left him to die at the river. The voice was a bit gruffer now, but it still had the similar convincing ring it always had.

He risked a peek from under the counter and his suspicions were confirmed. A puppet man, certainly not much older than Red Guy himself, stood filling a bag with money. He had covered part of his face with a hockey mask, but Red Guy recognised his navy blue skin, brown hair, and bold posture. Not to mention he was was wearing an old grey coat. He had told Red Guy the coat had belonged to his dad, and he had always been wearing it, even on the hottest days.

Thomas' eyes were bloodshot and kept darting around as if he was trying to keep an eye on all the customers at once. The hand that was holding his gun was sweaty and tense. Red Guy could tell that the other customers had noticed Thomas' unease, as they were trying not to make any sudden moves. They knew there would be consequences if they startled him.

Thomas had finished filling the bag, and was on his way back out the door, recklessly waving his gun at anything that moved. He scooped Red Guy's check off the floor, and was about to leave when the pink puppet lady's purse caught his eye.

"Open it up!" he demanded, and the lady quickly complied. The purse was mostly empty, save for a check and a few dollar bills.

"Mum." the little puppet girl in Red Guy's arms whispered. Red Guy pulled her into a gentle hug. She calmed down a little.

Thomas pointed to the money bag with his gun. "Put it in." he said gruffly.

"Please sir, it's all we have, and my daughter-" she began to protest.

"Put. It. In." Thomas made it clear this was not up for debate, and Red Guy could see his fingers on the gun start to twitch. Red Guy placed the girl back on the floor and turned her away from the scene, pointing her towards the wooden back of the counter. He covered her ears and prayed that the situation wouldn't go south.

"Please…" The lady tried again. A loud bang echoed through the room, and a small splatter of blood landed on the tiles. Everyone in the room froze. As Thomas stood dumbstruck, Red Guy regained his senses and pounced from under the counter. He tackled Thomas down, and his gun was sent sliding across the floor, where a robin kicked it even farther away. In a flurry of motion, the other customers in the bank came to Red Guy's aid, helping to hold down and tie up the criminal.

As the other customers dealt with Thomas, Red Guy walked over to the pink lady, who was sitting of the floor. She was clutching her leg and biting her lip, trying to keep from crying out. Her forehead was covered in sweat, causing her violet hair to stick to her face. Red Guy knelt down and pulled his blue scarf from his neck. He wrapped it firmly around her leg, and tied it in a tight knot.

He sat by her side and waited until finally he heard the sirens, and red and blue lights were flashing in the windows.

* * *

"I can't believe you would testify against me!" Thomas yelled into the phone. Red Guy said nothing in return, but looked at Thomas with half lidded eyes.

"We used to be friends!"

Red Guy sighed, he wondered when Thomas would play that card. "Twice now Thomas, my life has been endangered because of you. Even worse, you recklessly endangered others both times. Honestly, you're lucky they didn't charge you with attempted murder."

Thomas ground his teeth. "You think you're so smug with your emotionless face, and your monotone voice! Not all of us have it easy in life, you know? I heard you're a manager or something of some big company now, ya bigshot!"

"Or something, it doesn't pay as well as you may think," said Red Guy. "I just know how to save money. And I know that life can strike some people hard. Just look at that poor lady you shot. That meager check she was fighting you for is barely enough to keep food on their table, and now she can't work because of you."

Thomas sat back and huffed. They stared at each other for a few minutes.

A bear in a uniform approached Red Guy. "Visiting time is up, dearie."

Red Guy sighed. "I'll come visit you, I promise."

"Whatever." Thomas replied, fidgeting with a button on his orange jumpsuit. Red Guy hung up the phone.

* * *

"Don't let it bother you, dearie, there's likely little you could have done."

Red Guy glanced up at the clouds, there was a storm rolling in. "Maybe you're right." he sighed. "Either way, it's going to be a long ten years." Red Guy buttoned up the top button of his coat. He tried to tuck some of his long red hair into the collar, but he could still feel the cold air biting at his neck.

"You're really going to visit him, mmm?" The bear asked.

"I made a promise." said Red Guy.

* * *

"I don't go back on my promises." said Red Guy as he sipped the warm coffee. It refreshed his restless mind and warmed his cold throat.

"But, sir, it's just so much!" Canary replied. He was sitting beside his wife, who had a few tears rolling down her face. Her leg was bandaged and propped up on an ottoman.

"Our little shop barely makes enough to stay open! How would we ever repay you?" she whispered, smiling as her husband wiped the tears away with his soft feathers.

"No need." said Red Guy. He glanced at the little girl who was sitting on the floor, she was playing with an old, chipped wooden horse. The pink puppet girl smiled up at him, a lock of yellow hair falling in front of her face. She pointed at her mother, her face lighting up with a burst of eagerness.

"I'm going to be a doctor some day, so I can help people who get hurt, like mommy!"

Her mother stifled a happy laugh. "You should see her when we go shopping." she whispered to Red Guy. "She tells that to everyone within 20 feet of us."

Red Guy smiled at the little girl as well as he could manage. "That sounds like a noble ambition, Pepper."

Pepper giggled softly, and went back to playing.

"Still," said the pink lady, directing the conversation back to before. "We can't send you off empty handed!"

"It's fine Mrs. Bell, truly." protested Red Guy, but she would have none of it.

"Nonsense," she laughed. "Canary, can you get my knitting bag?"

Canary nodded and went off to fetch it. "And, please, call me Campanula, or Panula if you prefer." Panula insisted.

Canary returned with the bag, and Panula fished around inside of it. "I was saving this as a gift for my cousin, but I think it suits you better." She pulled out a green and yellow plaid scarf. "I figured you could use it, after I kind of bled all over your other one.

Red Guy took the scarf and wrapped it around his neck. "It's perfect."


	3. Chapter 2

**A Game of Red and Green**

Red Guy pulled his coat closer as he slid the key into the mailbox. He quickly retrieved the measly pile of letters and locked it shut again. He bowed his head to the wind as he made the trek back to his front door. " _Winter's going to be nasty this year._ " he thought.

He hung the key back on the key rack and tossed the pile of letters onto a nearby coffee table. He took his time unwrapping himself from his warm clothing, then decided to make some coffee.

* * *

Red Guy fiddled with a lighter as he listened to the coffee sputter through the brewer. Finally, with a fire burning and a warm cup of coffee in hand, he sat down to look at the mail.

The small stack of paper contained mostly bills, and there were also flyers and coupons. He saved the new pack of fast food coupons, and glanced over one of the flyers: ' _Sell your house fast!_ ' Red Guy shook his head. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

A crumpled letter on the bottom of the pile caught his attention. It didn't have a return address, and the address was written in… " _What is that? Red paint?_ " He picked up the letter, and a faint metallic smell wafted off of it.

Red Guy carefully slid a letter opener across the top. As he bent over to place the opener on the coffee table, something slipped out of the envelope onto his lap. He picked it up, and froze.

The object in question was a small, green feather.

With shaking hands, he pulled out the letter and read it:

' _We have the youngest Duck of the Duck family hostage, pay £96,000 to this address if you want him home safely.'_

Red Guy dropped the letter and ran to grab his coat.

* * *

" _What do you mean no?!" Tommy was flabbergasted. Red Child was always so gullible and trusting, how could he not be listening to him anymore._

" _You heard me, I said no!" Red Child yelled boldly. "I won't follow you into anymore crazy stunts!"_

" _Fine," Tommy huffed back. "Then maybe you shouldn't play with us anymore!"_

 _The other children nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're not going to be any fun!"_

" _Well, then, maybe I'll just have fun doing something else!" Red Child responded._

" _Whatever floats your boat," muttered Tommy. He turned to the other children. "Now, come on, let's find another way to steal granny's pie!"_

" _Yeah!" the other children shouted in unison. They all ran off, leaving Red Child alone._

 _Red Child was proud of himself for standing up against his friends, but the feeling soon dwindled. He started to realize that he was alone. Not knowing what to do, he sat and began drawing in the dirt._

 _He had been drawing a picture of a bird when a hand had reached down and stuck a green feather into the drawing's wings. Red Child looked up to see a green figure peering over his shoulder._

" _Hi!" the mystery child squawked._

" _Hi?" Red Child answered hesitantly._

" _I like your drawing!" he said enthusiastically. "I'm duck! What's your name?"_

" _I'm Red Child."_

" _Red Child? Seems kind of literal," Duck said, but then he laughed. "But then again, who am I to say anything!" Red Child noticed that Duck's voice had an unusual quality to it, almost as if it was trying to correct itself while he spoke._

" _Have you been here long?" Red Child asked, not certain if he had seen Duck before._

" _I've lived here since I hatched!" Duck explained. "I've seen you around, but you were always with that Thomas kid."_

 _Red Child looked back at the ground. "Yeah, I thought he was my friend, but it turns out I was wrong."_

" _I can be you friend!" Duck grinned enthusiastically. "I've always wanted a friend!"_

 _Red Child smiled up at Duck. "Call me Red."_

"Excuse me sir." The gruff voice of the taxi driver woke Red Guy from his dream. "We've arrived at the airport."

* * *

Red Guy poured over the book, recommitting each dot and dash to memory. The muffled drone of the plane's engines barely registering in his mind. He carefully flipped over one of the more damaged pages, and continued to bring his near forgotten skill back to light.

"Excuse me, sir," Red Guy felt a hand on his shoulder, and a gentle female voice spoke. "We're nearing our decent, and you need to put your seatbelt on, please."

"Yeah, sure." Red Guy closed the book, and began fumbling with his seatbelt as the flight attendant put his tray up. The seatbelt clicked into place as the attendant moved on to another person.

Red Guy looked at the cover of the book. _Morse Code for Beginners_ was the title, and he flipped it open to the inside cover. A scratchy inscription in red pen caught his attention.

' _To Red_

 _Thank you for being my friend! Happy Birthday!_

 _P.S. Study this book well, then we can have a secret code that the adults don't understand!_

 _-D_ '

Red Guy felt a bit of moisture under his eye. He quickly wiped it away as he placed the book in his backpack.

* * *

Red Guy crouched in the wardrobe as he listed to the heavy footfall on the cement floor. A loud crash and a muffled yelp alerted him to the fact that someone tied to a chair had been thrown onto the ground. With a creak, a large figure leaned against his hiding spot, and Red Guy had to cover his face in order to not gag from the rancid smell that wafted from the furry brown puppet.

"Grah grrr grell grh!" The puppet spoke in an archaic form of speech, but Red Guy was able to pick out a few words he had learn in ancient linguistics class. He had managed to pick out 'too' and 'long'.

"Mumfle!" the muffled voice responded.

"Hermmmr griff gerah!" Red Guy understood 'last' and 'day'.

"Muff, muff!"

"Rrrah grapha terr!" 'dead meat' and 'hour', Red Guy shivered, he'd have to move quickly.

The man stood back up and walked off. Red Guy collapsed out of the wardrobe, falling onto his face on the dusty floor.

"Refff!" the muffled voice said enthusiastically. Red Guy shushed him and started unwrapping the tape from his beak. "I was afraid you didn't get the ransom note!" Duck cried, causing Red Guy to silence him again.

"How did you get into this mess?" he whispered, as he began to untie him from the chair.

"It was my brother's fault," he whispered back. "The second oldest one, he borrowed £90,000 from this guy, they call him the Money Man. I guess he's taken a little too long to pay it back. I know my family, they're as pour as dirt. Plus, there's so many of us that my parents wouldn't be too heartbroken to lose one. That why I sent the ransom note to you instead!"

Red Guy shook his head. The Duck family had had far too many children, and Mr. and Mrs. Duck had always played favorites. As a child, half the time Red Guy hadden't been sure they even remembered that their youngest son existed.

"Come on," he whispered. "We need to hurry."

* * *

Red Guy held his breath as he heard muffled voices. He was sticky with sweat, and his arm itched from being pressed against greasy feathers. He resisted urge to move, despite the fact that his cramped body was screaming to do so.

The box was forcefully picked up off the floor, the backwards tilt implying it was being lifted by a forklift. Red Guy was knocked back into his feathered friend, and bit his tongue to prevent himself from crying out. They landed with a painful thud, and the two worked to try and get back into a comfortable position.

Red Guy felt a feathered hand tapping his shoulder, it was morse code. "A-r-e w-e s-a-f-e-?"

Red Guy tapped on Ducks shoulder in response. "I d-o-n-'-t k-n-o-w-."

"M-o-n-e-y m-a-n w-i-l-l s-e-a-r-c-h" Duck responded, his knowledge of morse code had always been much less than Red Guy's, but he got the picture.

"L-e-t-'-s h-o-p-e n-o-t-."

As the vehicle, presumably a truck, they were being transported on drove swiftly through the night, Red Guy felt his eyelids grow heavy. He soon fell into a light and restless sleep.

* * *

"R-e-d R-e-d w-a-k-e u-p-!" A furious jabbing prodded Red Guy from his slumber. He then heard something that made his blood run cold.

"Greehh?" The sound was muffled through the wood of the crate, but was still recognizable.

"Sir, the box is private mail, I can't open it for you!"

"Mreeh!" the voice was agitated.

"Sir, only the recipient can open that box!"

There was a scratching on the top of the crate, and Red Guy reached for the nearby crowbar he had picked up in the post office wearhouse. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

"Sir, I have to ask you to unhand that box!"

"Reehr!"

"£96,000 or not, that box is off limits. Sir, please leave, you're delaying the plane."

"Merrger lerr!"

"Sure, just bring a warrant signed by the police next time, and you _might_ be able to _peek_ inside."

Duck and Red Guy listed as heavy footsteps pounded off.

* * *

Red Guy tore the crate open form the inside. He and Duck spilled forth onto Red Guy's front porch. The two of them looked at each others disheveled appearances, and started laughing.

"Next time," gasped Red Guy. "We're going to fly first class!"

"Yeah, like maybe buy a box with a refrigerator and a T.V. in it!" Duck wheezed.

Eventually the two settled down. "Ok," said Red Guy. "Let's get inside before someone calls the police."

"What, are they going to arrest us for, odor?" Duck laughed. Then he made a face. "Though, seriously, I need a shower."


	4. Chapter 3 - Part 1

**Cinnamon Hearts**

Red Guy wasn't sure why this kid had caught his attention. Red Guy often walked down this quiet street to clear his head, and he had seen dozens of other children just like him. Children of all ages and species, standing on their tip toes with their faces pressed against the window of the _Bell Candy Shop_ , eyes wide, taking in all the sights and inhaling the smell of the melting chocolate.

Yet this one had given Red Guy pause. Red Guy looked around, often the parents of the children were not far off, window shopping or chatting while their children got bored; but today the street was even more dead than usual. Not one other soul was in sight, just him and this yellow child.

"Excuse me," Red Guy asked. "Are your parents near by?"

The yellow child looked up at Red Guy. He had a bit of dirt smeared on his face, and his overalls were covered in mud. His long dark blue hair was disheveled, as if it hadn't been brushed or washed in a long time.

"No," he replied, the depth of his voice startling Red Guy.

"Are you lost?" Red Guy asked.

"No," the child replied again.

"Do you live nearby at least?" Red Guy was a bit perplexed by the situation. This Child couldn't be much older than 8, yet here he was, on his own in an empty street looking into the window of a candy shop.

"Dad says I shouldn't talk to strangers." He replied simply, turning to look back into the candy shop.

Red Guy stood for a moment, thinking. He made up his mind and walked past the child, pressing on the door to the candy shop. The door creaked open, causing a little bell to jingle, announcing to the store that someone had walked in.

The canary behind the counter lit up when he saw him. "Red! So you've decided to give us a visit this time, hey?"

"Hello Mr. Bell. Yup, I decided to stop in today."

Canary laughed. "Always so formal! Call me Canary please, Mr. Bell is my father in law's name! So what'll it be? The usual?"

"To start off. How's Mrs. Bell doing?" Red Guy asked, casually glancing through the display cases.

"Ah, Panula is doing well. The doctor thinks she'll be able to work again within the coming weeks, and not a moment too soon. What with Christmas only a few months off, we're about to hit our busiest season."

Canary handed a bag over to Red Guy. "There you go, half a dozen of our signature bell pepper chocolates. Anything else?"

"Well, I was wondering," said Red Guy. "Do you recognize that kid?" He pointed to the yellow child, who still had his face pressed against the glass.

"Hummm," Canary looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, he's been coming around more often. I hadn't seen him until about a month ago, though."

"Have you ever seen his parents?" Red Guy asked, intrigued.

"Um," Canary snapped his feathers. "Yeah, one time the kid was walking with this guy, probably his father, they had the same yellow skin and blue hair." Canary shivered. "The guy gave me the creeps through. He never said a word and his expression never changed."

Red Guy pondered this for a bit as he continued to glance through the display cases. Finally, he spotted something that drew his attention. He pointed to the case. "One of those, please."

"A candy apple?" Canay raised an eyebrow as he grabbed a paper bag. "Not to complain about business, but you're not usually one for such sugary treats."

"It's not for me." said Red Guy. "I would like you to give it to the kid for me."

Canary had both of his eyebrows raised now, but he thought for a moment, and then gave Red Guy a knowing look.

"Well, that comes to $11.00, Red." Canary said, pushing buttons on the old cash register.

"It's always such a steal Canary. Do you ever break even?" asked Red Guy, as he fished around in his wallet.

"We manage to, thanks to you. We've even had a little extra money to save at Christmas lately." Canary replied. He looked around the store, taking in the shelves of brightly coloured candy. He took a deep breath and savored the smell of the chocolate. "This store is my wife's life long dream. We would have lost it if it wasn't for you."

"Still," said Red Guy, as he passed a twenty to Canary. "You charge half as much as any of the other stores in town. Keep the change." He waved his hand as Canary begin to count out coins.

"We don't have a lot of customers," Canary sighed. "And most of the ones we do have are stingy, they're likely to take their business somewhere else if we raise our prices."

"Hummm," Red Guy hummed sadly. "Well, I'll see you again soon I'm sure."

"Bye Red, have a nice evening."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Red Guy would step into the store whenever he saw the yellow child outside. He would buy a little something for himself, and a little something for the child. Red Guy started to notice the child's face would brighten up when he saw him coming, and the sight of his hidden smile always made everything feel a little brighter for Red Guy.

Today, however, something was different. The child's face didn't light up when he saw Red Guy, in fact, he had glanced at the cobblestones at his feet and frowned.

"Is something the matter?" Red Guy asked, concerned over the child's change in attitude.

"Why are you doing this sir?" the child asked in a serious tone. "Once or twice a week you come and buy me candy. What are you looking for in return?"

The implications of the child's question surprised Red Guy. This child was asking what he wanted from him, as if no one had ever done anything for him out of kindness.

"Well, I suppose I could say that the store owner could use the money." he replied honestly. The child raised an eyebrow.

" _This kids no fool, thats for sure._ " thought Red Guy. "Look, I'm just trying to do something nice for you. You looked like you needed help." he said.

The child gave Red Guy a hard stare. "No one does anything for free." he said with conviction. "They always want something."

"Ok then." Red Guy took a moment to think. "I suppose I want your trust. How does that sound?"

The child's frown deepend. "Sounds like something a bad person would say."

Red Guy chuckled in a defeated way. "I suppose I can't argue with that. So, what candy do you want today?" he asked, pressing a hand against the door.

The child looked surprised. "You're asking me?"

"Well, you're talking to me for once, so I thought I'd ask." said Red Guy. "Or would you like to come in and take a look around yourself?"

The child hesitated, but finally followed reluctantly. He sped through the door, and then did his best to remain an arm's distance away from Red Guy.

"Whoa there!" Canary called from behind the counter. "Glad to see you come in for once and all that, but please, be careful."

"Oh, don't be such a buzzard! He can run around if he wants to!" Panula called from the kitchen, peaking her head out while holding a dripping candy apple.

"Hey, don't be speciesist, one of my best friends is a buzzard!" Canary called back.

"Yeah, and he's a total buzz kill!"

"Yeah, but… he…*sigh*" Canary shook his head, smiling. "Somehow she's always right."

Panula popped out of the kitchen again to blow him a kiss. "You bet your tail feathers I am!"

Canary stuck out his tongue at her playfully, before turning back to his customers. "How can I help you?"

"Well it depends." Red Guy watched as the child ran around the store. "Do you know what you want?"

The child paused and slowly made his way back. He sheepishly held out his hand, which held a small red box.

"Huh," mused Canary. "You never struck me as someone who liked cinnamon hearts."

The child looked at his feet. "I don't," he mumbled. "But my dad does and he hasn't been able to have some in a long time, so I thought I could get some for him."

Panula voice echoed from the kitchen "Oh, my gosh, that's so sweet!"

The yellow child huffed in an embarrassed way, and thrust the red box into Red Guy's hand.

* * *

Red Guy walked along behind the yellow child, who skipped and ran ahead of him. He slowly caught up as the child tried to balance on an old cement embankment.

The child had reluctantly allowed Red Guy to walk him home. Red Guy had been growing more and more concerned as the buildings around them had grown more and more dilapidated. Finally, the child stopped in front of a building.

It appeared to be an apartment, through Red Guy was afraid he would insult the word by calling it that. A rotting sign stood out front that had once said 'Apartments for Rent', through some creative tagger had changed it into 'Armpits for Rent'. The roof of the building sagged, looking ready to collapse at any moment. Several of the windows were duct taped shut, and the screen door hung limply off the real door.

"Here we are, home sweet home!" the child's happiness seemed undeterred. "Or as dad calls it, the old dumpster!"

Red Guy stepped on the creaking porch, watching out carefully for rotting spots. The child knocked on the door.

The door creaked open, and suddenly a frightful figure appeared in the doorway. His blue hair was disheveled, and looked as if it had been torn out in places. He held a frightening neutral expression, and nether of his eyes seemed focused on anything. Red Guy was about to grab the child and run when suddenly he spoke up.

"Hi dad!" the child grinned. The man made no response, but instead simply continued to breath loudly. The child looked back at Red Guy. "Don't worry about him, he's nice!" Red Guy wasn't certain which of them he was trying to comfort.

Red Guy reached out a hand. "H-hello." Red Guy suddenly felt like an idiot, he was standing too far back for the man to reach.

Still, the man slowly raised a hand and, to Red Guy's surprise, stretched out his arm to reach his. He shook it quickly, then slowly retracted it. He then reached out and wrapped an arm around the yellow child's shoulders, pulling him inside.

"Look dad, he got you cinnamon hearts!" The child reached into his pocket and pulled out the red box. The man stared at it, and then at Red Guy, his expression unchanging. He then slowly closed the door.

Red Guy stood on the porch, shivering and perplexed. He made his way back down to the ground and was about to leave when an idea popped into his head. "Wait, sir, I told you my name, can you tell me yours?" he called back.

A yellow hand peaked out from the corner of one of the duct taped windows. A long arm stretched out and made it's way over to a mailbox. The hand pointed to one of the boxes.

Duct taped the box was a name written on an index card: _Roy_.


	5. Chapter 3 - Part 2

**Not Worth a Red Cent**

Red Guy wasn't certain if he would be seeing the child again after the encounter with Roy. He wasn't certain he had made a good impression with him, through the situation had been nearly unreadable.

To his surprise, however, he was greeted jubilantly by the child on his walk the next day.

"My dad says I can hang out with you!" he declared. "He said he saw you in the paper a few months back!"

Red Guy recalled someone snapping his photo as he had left the bank on that fateful day. He hadn't realized that one of the papers had actually used it.

Red Guy walked on, and pressed his hand once again on the candy shop door. "Well then, are you coming?"

The child zipped on ahead, looking excitedly around at the different shelves.

"Looks like you made a friend!" Panula was manning the counter today. She grinned as the child ran from display to display. "So, now that you're both on such good terms, I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell us your name, humm?"

The child stopped zipping around for a moment and pointed at Red Guy. "My names just like his!" He grinned. "I'm Yellow Guy! I always thought my name was dumb until I learn yours, now we have something in common!"

Red Guy was surprised. Guy names weren't very common any more. Red Guy was named after one of his many great's grandfathers.

Nowadays people were moving away from such literal naming, even the animals were starting to give their kids real names, instead of referring to them as oldest Bird or whatever. The thing that was strange was that the yellow family were well know celebrities, and, apparently, rich beyond imagination.

" _But why are Roy and Yellow Guy cut off?_ " he wondered.

"Yoo hoo, Earth to red Guy, come in Red Guy!" Panula was trying to get his attention. "I think your co-pilot is ready for takeoff!"

Yellow Guy stood holding a chocolate on a stick.

"Chocolate today, humm?" mused Panula as she rang up the cash register. "Oh dear, are you sure you want that one? I didn't do a good job of painting it."

Yellow Guy shrugged. "I like it. I't looks like a pigeon."

Panula sighed. "It's supposed to be a butterfly."

* * *

Red Guy watched as Yellow Guy sprinted and played in the park in front of him. He sighed, sinking down further into the park bench, trying to tighten his coat closer to his body. Red Guy was happy that Yellow Guy trusted him now, but he still had to do something about his predicament.

" _One thing at a time._ " he coached himself. " _What should you start with?_ "

He looked over at Yellow Guy again, and realized that the dirt on his body and clothing had only increased since he had first met him. The wind blew against Red Guy's face, and he shivered. It then came to his attention that he was cold in his large coat and scarf, and Yellow Guy was only in overalls. No wonder he was always running about, he must be freezing.

Red Guy raked his brain for an excuse to get Yellow Guy cleaned up, when the perfect idea popped into his head.

"Yellow Guy?" He called. Yellow Guy paused in his running to look at him. "I was wondering, do you know how to swim?"

* * *

Yellow Guy flew with a splash out of the bottom of the water slide. He popped back up out of the water, droplets spraying majestically off of his freshly washed hair.

He had cleaned up quite nicely. All Red Guy had had to do was buy soap and shampoo, and Yellow Guy had cleaned off the dirt and grit he had been gathering over the past few months. Yellow Guy had owned a bathing suit, thankfully, and now his overalls were also getting a well deserved wash in the rec center laundromat.

Yellow Guy dove into Red Guy, knocking him on his back into the water. "Rarr! I'm a shark!" he growled, while also giggling.

"Oh no!" Red Guy mock yelled. "However shall I get away?" He stood back up and scooped up Yellow Guy in his arms. "Why, would you look at that. It's just a small shark! Back to the water with you!" He swung Yellow Guy back and forth a few times, before hurling him into the deeper water. Yellow Guy laughed as he flew through the air. He landed with a massive splash and sank to the bottom of the pool, then he thrust his feet into the ground and shot back out of the water, landing with another splash.

A few ladies were sitting in the viewing area, watching their children playing in the pool. They giggled at the sight of the two friends.

"Oh, it's so sweet!" A lavender lady giggled through her hair. "I wish my husband would play with our kids like that once in awhile!"

"Yes," The maroon lady next to her nodded, her long hair bobbing up and down. "It's so nice to see dads taking such an interest in their sons lives."

Red Guy stood silently for a moment. Yellow Guy had frozen, treading in the water, when he had heard them speaking. The two ladies had gone back to talking about some celebrity, and where no longer focused on the two of them. Still, their words lingered in the air, as thick as cottonwood seeds in the summer.

"They didn't know-" Red Guy began, but Yellow Guy cut him off.

"We used to do this all the time, you know. Just, not in such a public place." Yellow Guy stared at his hand in the water, his eyes following it as it swished back and forth.

"It was this big pool, right behind our house. I would pretend to be a shark." He looked at Red Guy. "Dad would pretend to be afraid, and I would chase him around."

He looked back at his hand, his eyes once again following its hypnotic movement. "A-and mum would bring sandwiches, and when we got hungry, we would come to the edge of the pool and she would give them to us. She'd let us eat them in the water if none of my aunts and uncles, or grandparents, were around. And she'd always pack a little surprise inside the picnic basket."

Yellow Guy's movements slowed, and he sank a little in the water. "I would say 'Did you bring it?' and she would say 'Bring what?' and I-I would say 'Dessert, of course!' a-a-and she would sorta frown and say 'I don't know what your talking about.' and j-just when I t-thought she may have f-forgotten this time, she would s-smile and reach in a-a-and pull something out and s-say 'O-oh s-s-silly me, I n-n-nearly f-forgot about-'"

The last of his words were swallowed up by the water as he sank beneath the surface. Red Guy reached under and scooped him out of the pool. He walked with Yellow Guy cradled in his arms toward the edge of the pool. Yellow Guy cried softly into Red Guy's wet hair. He walked into the change room, and carefully wrapped a towel around the sobbing child.

"I miss her." Yellow Guy whispered.

* * *

Red Guy and Yellow Guy stood in the landymat. With both their bodies and tears now dried, they waited in silence for the washing machine to give the ok, so Red Guy could transfer the overalls to the dryer.

Yellow Guy sat in silence, flapping the sleeves of the oversized sweater he was wearing. His eyes wandered around the halls of the rec center until they became focused on something in the distance. Red Guy followed his gaze.

"You wanna go to the arcade?" Red Guy asked as the washing machine dinged. He transferred the wet overalls to the dryer.

Yellow Guy looked at his feet. "Yes please."

* * *

Red Guy gave a handful of tokens to Yellow Guy. All around them the machines blinked their lights, and blasted music and descriptions at random intervals.

" _Like a group of merchants, all begging for our attention._ " Thought Red Guy. An image of an arcade machine begging him to play popped into his head. He imagined it with silly eyes and a mouth displaying on it's screen. He wondered if it would sing a funny song to try and convince him to spend all his money on tokens. Red Guy laughed. " _A singing arcade machine, how absurd!_ "

Yellow Guy ran about, collecting a few tickets here and there. Soon enough he had run out of tokens and was taking a peek at the prize counter.

"How many tickets you got there?" the over zealous voice of the prize counter attendant asked. Yellow Guy held out his hand.

"Humm, not too many…" he dug around under the counter. "How about this!" He popped back out holding a night light shaped like a small lamp.

Yellow Guy made a face. "I don't like it, it looks drunk."

The green man looked closer at the light. "You may have a point." He scratched his bald head, and dropped it back behind the counter.

"How about that?" Yellow Guy pointed at a small set of paints and a brush.

"Eh, sure why not." said the prize guy. "Not like anyone else seems to want it…" he muttered.

He gave Yellow Guy the paint set in exchange for the few tickets. Yellow Guy held it close as they returned to the landymat.

"You like to paint?" Red Guy asked.

"Sometimes," replied Yellow Guy. "I've painted a picture of a park, and a picture of a circus, and a picture of a clown…" he reminisced. "Mom always liked it when I painted. She put my clown picture on the fridge, through my aunt didn't like it. She muttered something about me being 'too creative for my own good'."

"Your family doesn't sound very supportive." said Red Guy.

"They all loved my mom. She was their sister and daughter, after all. She always made them smile." Yellow Guy frowned. "But they didn't like dad, and they didn't like me. After the plane… er… when she was… **gone**... they kicked us out. Dad hasn't been the same since." Yellow Guy sighed. "He doesn't talk to people, he's been pulling out his hair, and he cries at night when he thinks I'm asleep."

Something stirred in Red Guy's memory. Red Guy never particularly kept up with celebrity news, but he remembered an article he had read some months ago.

There had been a plane crash, a horrible freak accident. The day had been foggy and messages had gotten scrambled and the plane had ended up over nearby forest, scraping the tops of the trees. He lost the plane's stabilizers to a few particularly sturdy trees, and was sent spinning across the cement of the runway.

6 people had died, 70 or so were injured, and 4 were critically injured, but survived. All things considered, it could have been worse for a 200 seater plane, but there had been one person in particular the article had focused on. Among the dead, there had been a celebrity from the yellow family. A young lady, through Red Guy couldn't remember her name for the life of him. What he did remember was that the article had said she had never married, and that she didn't have any children.

" _I wonder how much they offered? One, maybe two, million? It certainly wouldn't have put them behind in the slightest._ " He thought bitterly.


	6. Chapter 3 - Part 3

**Red, Green, Silver, and Gold**

Red Guy stood on his tiptoes on the stepladder, gingerly placing the star on the tree. He stepped down and flipped the nearby switch, watching the tree flicker to life.

"It looks lovely!" Duck squawked, as he placed silver and gold tinsel on the branches. The tree was wrapped in a string of multicoloured lights, and decorated with red and blue ornaments. The blue ones had belonged to Red Guy for years, and the red ones had just been bought by Duck this year.

"Oops!" Duck exclaimed. "We almost missed one!" He reached into the nearby box, and pulled out a green star with googly eyes.

Red Guy sighed. "Do we need to put that one on? I made it in, like, first grade."

"Well, you've held onto it for this long, haven't you? And just imagine how sad it would be if you didn't put it on!" he shook the ornament in Red Guy's face, causing its eyes to roll around. "Please mister Red!" Duck said in a deepened voice. "Put me on the tree! I wanna celebrate christmas with you!"

Red Guy rolled his eyes, but secretly grinned under his hair. He snatched the ornament from Duck's hand and went to hang it up.

"Oh darn," Duck snapped his feathers. "And here I thought I might get to sing a song to convince you!"

"Save it for caroling, Duck." said Red Guy. Just then, the phone began to ring.

Red Guy walked into the kitchen to pick it up. "Hello?"

At first all he could hear was a rushing wind, then finally a voice crackled through. "Hello, is this Red Guy?" The voice was shaky, but Red Guy recognized it instantly.

"Yellow Guy?" he asked loudly, trying to overpower the sound of the wind.

"Yeah!" Yellow Guy called back. "I'm sorry to disturb you on christmas eve, but I didn't know who else to call!"

"Don't worry about it!" Red Guy yelled, the whooshing growing louder. "What's going on?"

"Here, I'll let dad explain!" The phone was silent save for the wind for a moment, then was filled with the sound of heavy breathing.

"Roy?" Red Guy asked. "What's going on?"

No reply came, though the breathing grew more rapid.

"Oh, come on dad, just talk to him!" Yellow Guy's voice echoed from the background. A bit of clacking came through, like someone was fumbling with the phone, and then Yellow Guy was back on the line. "Sorry, he still won't talk to people." He apologised.

"It's all right, just, please tell me whats going on!" Red Guy asked desperately.

"Our apart- got -demned!" Yellow Guy called. The phone was starting to crackle, and a few words were cut off. "We've -en kicked out, and it's -oking nasty out here!"

"Where are you?" Red Guy asked. He looked outside nervously at the blizzard, the weather people had been warning to stay in tonight.

"-iding! The - service said th- would take me -ay if dad -n't have a h-se." The crackling was growing worse.

"Tell me where you are, and I'll come get you!"

"The pay pho-, in the -ark. The one you -ays walk thro-*buzzzzz*" The phone cut off.

Red Guy ran to the front door. "Duck, grab you coat!"

* * *

The two friends pushed through the wind that was forcibly trying to hinder them in their search. They had arrived at the pay phone, only to find it hanging off the hook. Several people in uniform were wandering around the area, and had asked Red Guy and Duck if they had seen a father and son wandering about. They had answered no, with honesty.

"I couldn't Imagine, that poor kid…" Duck muttered. "People looking to take him away from the only family he has left, and on Christmas Eve no less!"

"Roy can barely support Yellow Guy, and their situation certainly won't improve without a house. They're just doing their jobs, doing what they think is best." said Red Guy. "We simply have to beat them to it, and do what we **know** is best."

Duck suddenly grabbed Red Guy's shoulder. "Watch out!"

Red Guy had been distracted, and had nearly been hit by a broken phone line. Sparks where flying from the wire as it whipped through the air.

"Well, that explains what happened on the phone earlier." mused Duck.

Something in the snow caught Red Guy's eye. He bent down and picked it up, dusting it off. It was a tiny, plastic paint cup.

"These are like the ones from the set Yellow Guy picked up at the arcade…" he said. He glanced ahead and saw more paint cups littered in the snow.

"A breadcrumb trail." Duck said in awe.

* * *

The trail led them to an old drainage pipe that went under one of the park sidewalks. The pipe had already been sealed off with snow from the storm. Duck got down on his knees and started digging through the fluffy white wall. He made it a good ways, but soon the snow was too tightly packed to dig through.

Red Guy laid down in the snow and wedged himself as far into the pipe as he could get. He punched the snow wall with all the strength he could muster in the small space. He barely made a dent, but he pulled his hand back and punched again, undeterred. On the 6th or 7th punch he finally broke through. He struggled with his pockets in the tight space, and eventually managed to pull out a key chain flashlight. He shawn it into the pipe.

Sitting in the back of the pipe was Roy, with Yellow Guy lying behind him. At the sight of Red Guy, Roy dropped the large stick he was holding and relaxed a little.

"Roy?" Red Guy asked. "Is Yellow Guy ok?"

Roy shook his head, and pointed at a cloud made by his breath.

Red Guy understood. "It's too cold."

Roy nodded. Red Guy noticed that Roy was only in overalls, and that Yellow Guy was wearing both the sweater Red Guy had given him, as well as a ragged old coat.

"It's too cold for you too, Roy. Let's get you both out of there."

Roy gently passed Yellow Guy to Red Guy, who wriggled out of the pipe to gently pass him off to Duck.

He knelt back down in front of the pipe, gesturing to Roy. "Now, come on, you too."

Roy shook his head.

"Roy, you'll freeze in here, come on."

Roy made a dismissive gesture.

"Don't be ridiculous, come on!"

Roy looked at Red Guy square in the eyes, and Red Guy felt a chill. He had never seen someone who looked so hopeless and helpless. Roy's eyes were filled with the pain of someone who had had everything good ripped from his life in a single instant. He was more than done with the world, he had already quit.

Red Guy wasn't leaving without him. "Roy, your son needs you and you need him. You're all that each of you have left. You're his last connection to those happy days, you're his only loyal blood relative. You're the last proof to him that family means something. Why have you kept him hidden for so long if you were simply planning on giving up?"

Roy gestured at Red Guy, but Red Guy raised a hand. "I can be his family as well, yes, but how do you think he would feel if his last true relative simply gave up on him? You mean a lot to him, Roy. More than you clearly know."

Roy looked at the ground, seemingly lost in thought. Then he got on his hands and knees and followed Red Guy out of the pipe.

* * *

Yellow Guy sat in a nest of wrapping paper, sipping a hot chocolate. On the ground around him at an array of toys.

Duck sat on the couch nearby, sipping a hot chocolate as well. He sighed contentedly. "We should have Christmas twice a year more often."

Red Guy laughed as he pulled the last batch of pancakes from the frying pan. "That reminds me…" he muttered. He walked over and pulled off the old date from the calendar. It changed from December 28 to December 29.

"Ah, yes, the calendar." Duck looked thoughtful. "Imagine if one day you pulled off the date, and it was the same underneath…"

Red Guy raised his eyebrows. "Where did that come from?"

Duck waved his hand in the air. "Oh, just a dumb thought…"

Red Guy looked out the window at the sun rising over the snow. " _Roy should be awake now…_ " he thought.

* * *

Roy looked at the papers arranged on the desk, a small tear glimmered at the edge of his eye.

"It was easier than I thought it would be." said Red Guy. "Now you two can stay here, and you can stay together."

Roy placed his hand on the paper, then on Red Guy's shoulder.

"There's no need for him to know, at least not yet." said Red Guy. "Maybe when he's older, but I would prefer to keep it quiet for now."

Roy nodded, and examined the papers again.

 _This certificate hereby decrees that_ Red Guy _has become the legal guardian of_ Yellow Guy _on the date of_ December 28, XXXX _._

He gently traced his hand over the words of the topmost page, and, for once, his expression changed. It was studdle, if Red Guy had blinked he might have missed it, but it was there. A smile.


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Red Guy relaxed against the back of his chair. Outside, the midafternoon sun hung high in the air. The cold winter had long since melted into a beautiful spring, then into nice hot summer.

" _We should go to the beach when we get a chance._ " Red Guy thought. He picked up the nearby mug that sat on the table. It was empty. " _How strange, I don't remember drinking anything._ "

He looked at it's clean blue inside. Had he been planning on pouring a coffee for himself?

He noted that both Yellow Guy and Duck also had mugs. Not so unusual for Duck, who often had coffee on sunday afternoons, but Yellow Guy hated coffee; and he was too young to drink it anyhow.

Red Guy then took notice of the red teapot in the middle of the table. He blinked at it, they didn't usually drink tea, unless they had guests. There was also a bowl of fruit, when did he last go grocery shopping?

Duck was reading a newspaper, nothing was unusual about that. When Duck put the newspaper down, however, Red Guy noticed something was unusual after all. Red Guy may not have been the most 'up to date' on current events, but he knew for certain that the city he lived in didn't have a paper named: _The Right Wing_. Had Duck picked it up from out of town?

Red Guy glance around the room, the whole thing had an air of unfamiliarity. Everything looked just a little bit off. One or two details stuck out: a triangle with eyes, a picture of a boat, the plant on top of the fridge. He must have put these things in here at some point, right? It was his kitchen after all, no doubt about that. There was the stove he had cooked breakfast on this morning and lunch this afternoon, the radio he like to listen to while doing dishes, and the calendar he had pulled June 18 off of earlier today.

Still, something seemed terribly wrong. Everything in the room seemed to be collectively holding its breath, as if waiting for something. Red Guy felt as if he had to stay still, as to not set anything off too soon.

He saw that some words had been scribbled on the notepad by the phone. He attempted to carefully sit up taller, trying not to make a sound, in order to see them. His hand lightly brushed something next to him on the table. He settled back into his seat for a closer look.

It was a sketchbook. Now Red Guy knew for certain something was off. No one in the house sketched, though Yellow Guy painted sometimes. None of them would have any reason to buy a sketchbook, and they certainly wouldn't leave it carelessly on the kitchen table. Something could spill and ruin it.

Red Guy could feel the the center of the rooms attention now seemed directed towards this sketchbook. The room was watching, waiting, all focused on this one particular object.

He glanced between Duck and Yellow Guy. They too were looking around, seemingly dazed, possibly confused as well. There seemed to be a tension between the three of them, as if someone had just asked a question but no one had answered. Had they just been in the middle of a conversation?

Red Guy ran over the events of the day. It had just been lunchtime a few minutes ago, right? Or was it getting close to dinner? He remembered washing dishes. That felt like it had been hours ago. The dishes sat dry in their places on the shelf, except for two. That was odd, he didn't usually like to leave a job half done.

Where was Roy? He usually liked to hang around for a little after lunch before retreating to his room. But, then again, it had been a while since lunch. Perhaps he had snuck away already.

But they had just finished lunch.

A few hours ago.

Red Guy wanted to rub his head, but the crushing tension still frightened him. Why was his sense of time so mucked up? If he could just brave a peek behind himself he could look at the clock and clear the whole mess up.

He cocked his head slightly in an attempt to will himself to turn around. The tension twitched, and he felt like he was being watched. He held still, holding his breath, not sure what he was afraid of.

Little by little the strange feeling of tension moved back from him to the sketchbook. He released his breath in a sigh. This was ridiculous. Nothing and no one was watching him, save for his two friends. This was his house. He didn't want to feel like a prisoner in it, and he wasn't going to be held hostage by an inanimate stack of paper. He pressed his hands to the table and prepared to get up and end whatever this weird tension was.

Suddenly the cover of the sketchbook flipped open.

"What's your favorite idea?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Wait, don't touch that dial!

So, this epilogue ends this story as an independent fic. I still have two post-epilogue chapters in progress. Those chapters are the one's that connect this story to _A Wrinkle In Tony_. They also explain the differences between the normal dhmis timeline and the timeline in _A Wrinkle In Tony_ , so please stay tuned if you're interested!


	8. Post Epilogue Chapter 1

**Red Letter Days**

Red Guy tore the date June 19 off of the calendar. He was unsurprised, though very disappointed, to find another June 19 underneath. He gently lifted the corner of the page, and saw the edge of another 9. He sighed, perplexed. He had been dealing with this for so long that he no longer panicked, but just felt numb.

He cleared a stack of drawings off of the table in order to place down a plate of sandwiches. He glanced over the drawings, grumbling as he picked one out with Yellow Guy's name on it. They had been drawing together again, despite his warnings. Still, it was a very nice drawing, despite it's lack of green. He hung it on the fridge, making a mental note to have another chat with Yellow Guy about hanging out with their 'house guest'.

The other drawing were signed with an squiggly, inkblot signature, and a few shared an odd feature, two small holes and a thick, curved pencil mark. Red Guy didn't even bother to look through them, he simply opened up one of the drawers in the kitchen and stuffed them inside. The paper tore and bent, ruining several of the pictures. He thought he heard an upset whimper come from somewhere in the kitchen, but it didn't bother him.

The sad sound of someone watching their art being destroyed wasn't bothering him at all. Absolutely not one bit. And he definitely wasn't feeling any sort of remorsefulness from tearing apart an afternoon's worth of artwork.

After all, it deserved it. It had done the same thing to Yellow Guy.

* * *

Red Guy sat back, drinking coffee and listening to the faint tick of the living room clock. Duck was out for a walk, as always, forever trying to figure out the depth a detail of their surroundings. Yellow Guy was in his room, playing with toys no doubt, and Roy was in his room, he hardly ever left it anymore.

The sound of shuffling paper emanated from the kitchen, signaling that it had come out of hiding. It always came out when no one was in the kitchen. It would sit on the table and draw, always vanishing with a flutter of paper if Red Guy entered. It never tried to speak with any of the members of the household, at least, not since Red Guy had snapped at it for talking to Yellow Guy. He didn't want Yellow Guy to get sucked back into… whatever madness had transpired several months ago. Still, the kid seemed to have a frustrating soft spot for the thing. Red Guy had caught the two of them drawing together silently more than once, trying not to attract his attention.

Red Guy wished it would just leave. Hadn't it had caused them enough distress already? What was it waiting for?

Red Guy listened to the sounds of pencil crayon on paper, a gentle, somewhat comforting sound. It sounded like it was drawing on a regular sheet of paper this time. Sometimes it drew on a sheet, sometimes it's face. It would draw for hours, if left undisturbed, and Red Guy would listen to the scratching of the pencil crayon for those hours.

Yellow Guy had been the one to leave out those pencil crayons. He had called it bait. He also refreshed the paper every couple of days. It haddn't actually come out of hiding until Yellow Guy had done that. Red Guy was tempted to clean up the supplies and let the thing stay hidden away until he could find a way home, but, then again, what would he do with his afternoons? Everyone did their own thing this time of day. He hadn't noticed how terribly quiet it was until he had something to listen to.

At least this way he knew where it was, and he could keep an ear on it. That was his reasoning. If it was nice to have the scratching of pencil crayon and the quiet hums of an artist at work for company, that was just a bonus.

* * *

Red Guy sorted through the papers, looking for any drawn by Yellow Guy. He barely looked at the others as he flipped through. " _A picture of a house, a park, the sky, a red thing…_ " Red Guy paused, flipping back a few pictures. One of the pictures was of himself, sitting on the couch, the angle being what one would see from the kitchen. It was quite well done, with much more attention to detail then the other pictures. It had the scribbled, globby signature in the bottom corner. Red Guy looked at it thoughtfully, before finding a magnet and placing it on the side of the fridge, a little out of sight. He thought he heard a muffled peep of happiness coming from somewhere.

As he stuffed the rest of the pictures into another drawer, another one of them caught his eye. It wasn't so much the content of the picture, just a large tree next to a park, but an unusual detail of it. Under the two holes that would have surrounded its eyes, the pencil crayon had unusual dark streaks. The streaks did not appear at all on the paper, just on the pencil crayon. It looked damaged, like something had been spilt on it, but whatever it was did not damage the paper whatsoever.

* * *

Red Guy gazed at the empty table. It had been nearly three days since any drawings had graced its shiny top. It had happened so unexpectedly. One day Red Guy had sat in the living room, waiting to hear the shuffling of paper, and it had simply never come. Red Guy wasn't certain if it had left, or if it was simply no longer coming out of hiding.

" _Good riddance!_ " The thought ran through his mind, but for some reason he felt a pang of sadness.

Red Guy ran his fingers through the basket of pencil crayons on the table, listening to the clink as they fell upon each other. He picked up a dusty piece of paper and ran a blue pencil crayon over it, listening to the scraping noise, but it wasn't the same. Red Guy sat and let the room be silent.

That's when he heard it. A pathetic, muffled sound, so faint that even the slightest bit of noise would likely overpower it. It was coming from one of the cupboards, one of the ones under the sink.

It suddenly became obvious to Red Guy why he could never figure out where it was hiding. The cupboards under the sink where connected, and if he had opened one to get something, it could just slip over to the other side.

The sound was now recognisable to Red Guy, it was the sound of someone trying to cry quietly, without being heard. Despite knowing who the sound was emanating from, Red Guy still felt his heart breaking. He reached for the cupboard door with resolve, it was time to sort this out, once and for all.

He heard a squeak of surprise and a clatter as it retreated from the opened door, but Red Guy had prepared for this. He had started by opening the door to the right, and and was now reaching across to the left. He had cornered it in the left cupboard.

He pulled the door open to find it cowering in the corner, its tiny black hands over its eyes. Tears poured down its face, and it sobbed softly.

Red Guy felt some sort of 'fatherly' instinct kick in, and he gently reached in and pulled it out, cradling it in his arms, much like he did when Yellow Guy was upset. He walked over to the table and sat down, letting it cry and cry, and cry some more, as he gently shushed and told it everything was ok.

" _Merciful heavens, I must be going mad._ " he thought, the pure absurdity of the situation finally dawning on him. He looked at its tear streaked face and sighed. " _Red Guy, you old fool, your hearts to big for your own good._ "

When the sobbing had settled down a bit, Red Guy finally decided to ask the question that was burning in his head. "What's the matter?"

The sketchbook sighed. "Everything went so wrong." It said. "I'm so new at this! This is my first time teaching! And look at what happened!"

Red Guy gagged at the memory. The whole thing had felt like a whirlwind, and everything that had happened had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but nothing about it had been right in hindsight. Red Guy hadn't been able to even look at a cake for months afterward. Yellow Guy still complained about nightmares. Red Guy felt his blood begin to boil suddenly, and he was tempted just to shove the thing in his arms back into the cupboard and lock it away.

He felt its weird, slightly gross, oily tears land on his arm, and he softened once again. It was rather upset, and despite all that it had put them through, Red Guy decided to give it a chance to explain.

"I didn't think I was made for… whatever that was!" It exclaimed. "I thought we were supposed to be covered in black paint, agree never to be creative again, and then maybe become friends afterward, that was the plan, **my** plan! I thought I would get to leave the creepy stuff to the other teachers! That what I was told!"

The sketchbook was providing more questions than answers. " _Made for? The plan? Other teachers?_ " These were the questions in Red Guy's head. "What's your name?" This was the question he asked.

"Sketchbook." It replied.

" _I should have known._ " He thought. He screwed up his courage and pushed away his hundreds of questions. Those would have to be asked another day, when he felt more up to it. He had made up his mind about what he would do now. "Sketchbook, I feel we may have gotten off to a... **rough** start. My name is Red Guy, and I'm willing to start over and try being friends, as long as you promise never to sing us that song again."

Sketchbook smiled gratefully. "Agreed, friend."

"Whats going on?" Yellow Guy peeked his head into the kitchen, apparently having gotten bored of sitting alone in his room.

Red Guy gestured to Sketchbook, smothering his trepidation. "Yellow Guy, this is Skechbook. She's going to be living with us, er, more with us."

Yellow Guy seemed instantly excited. He ran up, grabbing Sketchbook from Red Guy's arms. "I knew it! I knew you were good!"

"Me, good?" Sketchbook seemed genuinely surprised by the notion. "But, after what I-"

He tossed her in the air, and she squeaked, her arms flailing. "You didn't mean it! I just knew you didn't mean it!" He caught her and then swung her onto his back. She clung to his shoulders. "Plus, if Red Guy thinks you're good, then you must be good."

Yellow Guy took off down the hall before Red Guy could react.

"Wait until you see the paints dad got me for my birthday!" his voice echoed from down the hall.

A relieved and excited laugh resonated through the house. Sketchbook was part of the family, and she already loved every second of it.


	9. Post Epilogue Chapter 2

**Red Alert**

Red Guy stared at the man in the black morphsuit. He stared back with his hidden eyes, a moment of surprised silence passing between them. Then he began frantically snapping the large clapperboard, as if he was expecting some sort of result. "It's not working!" he cried in a raspy, digital voice.

"No, no, it has to work!" The white clad man jumped over the table and snached it, clapping it himself and looking between it and Red Guy. "It always worked before!"

"Well, he's still here and I don't see any glitter, do you?!" The black dressed man yelled back.

"Eject, expel, cast out, remove!" shouted the other man, still clapping the board.

Red Guy tried to take a step forward, but the duck on the table suddenly sprang up, flapping and quacking in his face.

"Thats right!" The black garbed man yelled. "Nothing to see here! Listen to the duck!"

"What-" Red Guy had only just began to utter his question when an electronic male voice interrupted him.

"System error detected, subject ejection failure. Retrieving subject labeled 'student one' for next simulation."

Red Guy felt a push, almost like a harsh wind, shoving him back through the door he had come from. He tried to make and attempted to fight back against it, but it turned out to be no use. He felt his feet get swept from the floor, and was sent backwards into the room he had come from.

He floated in midair for a few quiet moments, then the room vanished into the door, looking almost like fabric being sucked into a vacuum cleaner. The world became nothing but an inky, dark blue void around him.

Red Guy wasn't sure how long he stayed there, in the dark silence the passage of time seemed to lose meaning. At some point he must have fallen asleep, for the next thing he knew he was startled awake by the same male voice from earlier.

"Simulation beginning. Loading environment: 'new kitchen'."

A new room began to appear around Red Guy. It started with the floor, then the walls began to wind around it in strips, ending with the ceiling landing on top with a small _thud_. Red Guy continued to be suspended in the middle of it for a few seconds, and then was dumped onto the floor.

"Loading 'student two' and 'student three'."

Two strips of fabric, one green and one yellow, descended from the ceiling. They fluttered around in circles for a bit before eventually solidifying into Duck and Yellow Guy.

"Red Guy!" The two yelled in unison before dashing forward to help him to his feet.

"Where on earth have you been?!" asked Duck.

"What?" Red Guy asked, dazed. "No where. Where were you?"

"Us?! We've been here!" Duck looked shocked. "You're the one who's been missing for seven months!"

"Seven… months?"

"Yeah, you disappeared after Colin showed up!"

"Who?"

"Colin, Colin the computer. I guess you were never formally introduced." Duck looked around. "Where is everyone anyway?"

Red Guy grabbed Duck by the collar of his shirt. "Listen to me. I think this world is-"

"Are you hungry? You look to be a bit hungry."

The trio stared up at the cupboard that had just flipped open. Red Guy groaned. "Oh, not now!"

The spinach can continued singing. "Doot doot doo doo doo. Lots of people get hungry."

"Quick, look around for a red cord or something!" Red Guy was scanning the pink floor. They had to get out before the song took hold.

"A what?" asked Duck.

"That's your body!"

All three of them once again stopped to stare at the large slab of meat that had just started singing.

Red Guy spoke louder to try and drown him out. "I think this world is fake. We need to find an exit."

"You're probably right. Either way, I'm not sticking around here." Duck reached for the nearby door and tugged the handle, but it clicked and barely turned. "It's locked!"

Red Guy came over and grabbed it as well. Together they tried to forcibly pull it open. The door gave a little, creaking in protest, the frame beginning to crack, before the handle popped off and sent them flying backwards.

"That's no good!" Duck yelped.

"Everything tastes great, but maybe we should wait-"

Red Guy cut off the fridge with a snap of his hand as it started singing. "Not you too! Shut it!"

Red Guy gazed frantically around the room, his eyes falling on one last hope of escape. The window.

He made a mad dash, tearing across the kitchen and shoving anything that got in his way. He jumped up on the counter, accidentally kicking some flour and health juice to the floor. He searched the window, and, upon finding no way to open it, stretched an arm out to grab one of the pot's hanging near by. He bashed it against the window, the metal clanging loudly yet bouncing off without making a dent. He wound his arm up and took another crack at it, still failing to cause any damage.

The slab of meat, still singing frantically, made a mad dash toward him, reaching out with the intent of pulling him down from the counter. Unfortunately for him, his large, gripless shoes slid effortlessly on the shiny mixture of flour and health juice that had combined on the floor. He slid right past his target, crashing into the cabinets and falling to the floor, yet continued to sing unsteadily.

Red Guy continued his assault on the seemingly indestructible window, the sound of metal on glass echoing louder and louder. Duck, meanwhile, had taken to bashing the damaged door with a bar stool, the stool splintering and the door refusing to make way. The new objects, somehow, cept their song going, getting louder and louder in an attempt to drown out the noise that their uncooperative students were creating.

"Everybody shut up!" The deep voice of Yellow Guy cut through the racket, at last silencing the commotion. Everyone in the room seemed to freeze, as if they could hardly comprehend the sudden silence. Then, slowly, softly, a gentle crying began to fill the room. Red Guy didn't know if he could bear to look. He had been so busy trying to find a way out, that he hadn't been keeping an eye on the poor child. Guilt filled him as he slowly turned toward the center of the room.

Sitting on the dirty, flour and health juice covered floor, was Yellow Guy, yet his eyes were empty of tears, but filled with concern. In his arms, a small loaf of bread was crying gently, gripping a spoon in one of it's hands, and it's elbow with another. The tiniest bit of red was visible under it's small, gloved hand.

Yellow Guy looked around the room, first wide eyed, then accusingly. "Didn't any of you hear him?" He asked, a tone of disbelief in his voice. "He fell off the counter. He's been crying for at least five minutes!"

The rest of the teacher's and student's looked at each other guiltily. No one knew what to say.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a loud crash.

"Is anyone dead!?" Tony the talking clock gripped the remaining door handle, rapidly scanning the room.

"Tony, look!" Sketchbook cried excitedly, pointing at Red Guy from Tony's back. "He came back. He's alive!"

"Oh, thank sunrise!" Tony slouched down, breathing hard. "Everyone's alive! I might actually not get fired!"

Sketchbook bopped him on the top of his head. "And, you know, it's nice to see Red Guy again."

"Yeah, yeah, that too." Tony gave Red Guy an exhausted, half hearted thumbs up. "Thanks for being, well, not dead."

Red Guy crawled down from the counter top. "No problem." he said. He knelt down to inspect Yellow Guy's new friend. "Can I see that arm?" He asked. The little teacher looked nervous, but released his elbow and cautiously held it out toward him.

"Looks like just a small scrape." Red Guy observed. "Can someone get the first aid kit from the bathroom?"

No one moved at first. A few eyes fell on Tony. "Don't look at me." He grumbled, still breathing heavily. "I just spent 36 minutes trying to break down an immovable door, cut me some slack."

"I'll go." said Duck.

"My word. What a mess." A digital voice crackled from the counter top. Everyone turned to look at the computer who had finally decided to make an appearance, and was now snacking out of a box of oats.

"You could have helped us get the door open." Tony glared at him. "Then maybe we could have resolved this before there was a mess."

"As I told you before, nothing you tried would have gotten you through that door before the lesson was over." Colin munched obnoxiously on another mouthful of oats. "It's the rules."

"Still, your effort would have been appreciated." Tony muttered.

Duck returned and handed the first aid kit to Red Guy.

"Can you get me a cup of water too?" asked Red Guy, cleaning his hands with a bit of sanitizer.

Duck winced. "Is that necessary? I mean, it's only a little scrape." He flipped through the cupboards, growing increasingly frustrated when he didn't find the cups right away. He figured he should know way around the kitchen by now, he had been living here for over 5 years.

Red Guy stared at him in his usual dull way. "Have you ever read the ingredients on health juice?"

Duck cringed. "Fair point."

He took the bread's arm. "This might sting a little." he said, gently pouring water over the scrape. The small teacher let out a cry and tried to pull his arm away, but Red Guy was much stronger than him.

Yellow Guy hugged the little bread gently. "It's ok." He whispered.

Red Guy gently bandaged the teacher's arm. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it... er…" Red Guy drew a blank. "Do you have a name?"

The slab of meat, who was still lying on his back like a flipped turtle, spoke up. "His name's Bread Boy, I believe."

"Um, okay? You did great, Bread Boy."

Red Guy sat back on the floor as Yellow Guy and Bread Boy proceeded to have a one sided conversation, with Yellow Guy talking and Bread Boy smiling and nodding. He glanced over the unfamiliar new kitchen, that seemed to have magically connected itself to the house he knew and loved.

Of course, he told himself, this wasn't the house he knew and loved. It was a copy. A cheap, and not very accurate copy. Nothing here was real but his two friends. The computer that Duck was chatting with wasn't real. The oats that the computer was eating were not real. The food he had been eating, the stove he cooked it on, the bed he slept in, none of it was real. The grumpy, out of shape clock wasn't real, the sketchbook on his back, whom Red Guy had grown to care about almost like a daughter, was not real.

That very sketchbook, meanwhile, had been impatiently waiting for a chance to welcome Red Guy back home. Seizing the opportunity she now saw before her, she catapulted from Tony's back, leaping forward and wrapping her arms around Red Guy.

"I'm so glad you're alive!" she squealed happily.

Red Guy jumped, but slowly and gently hugged her back. "Yeah, me too."

" _Escape is for another day._ " thought Red Guy. " _Perhaps, just maybe, some things in this world are real after all._ "


End file.
